Anyone in the newsroom can attest to my tendency to gravitate toward the ocean when I am out looking for a feature photo, and most of them could tell you my favorite beach – Higgins. I was up and at it early on Tuesday, Oct. 16, hoping for some quality light as I turned down the stretch that so pleasantly delivers you right at the doorstep of one of the most beautiful beaches in southern Maine.

Something didn’t seem quite right, though, as I looked out over the beach. Even at that early hour there should have been a scattering of lights from the oceanfront homes and a street lamp or two, but it was pitch black. A storm had knocked out power overnight, leaving 95,000 people across the state in the dark.

As I wandered around in blackness, unable to see but navigating by the sound of the waves, I eventually stumbled upon Jeff Davis, a schoolteacher eager to get in a surf session before heading to work. As he reached for his board there was just enough light to silhouette him against the deep blue hues and the hint of the rising sun.

It was the middle of March. Another snowstorm. Over the past 2 1/2 years I’ve come to appreciate Maine winter, especially from a photographic perspective. At a certain point at the end of winter, though, it can start to feel like all the snow features you’re shooting are the same. I was driving around looking for a photo of someone doing anything but shoveling snow. Passing the Eastern Prom for the 16th time that day, I saw in the distance two people walking toward the park. I stopped my car and hopped out just in time to grab a photo of them running down the hill. I honestly didn’t think much of it. I thought I was way too far away. It wasn’t until I was editing later that day that I decided to throw the photo into the mix of snow features from that day. Now when I look at the photo I see it as a reminder to just shoot the photo, even if it feels like it won’t work. You never know.

Covering events such as this – when an unexpected death occurs and a community comes together to heal and celebrate the life of an individual – can be very challenging. In this case, a family had lost their second son in a matter of a few years. The mood was thick with sadness, but there was also a feeling of joy and hope, as family members and friends spoke about their memories of Patrick Lobor, a young Portland man. The vigil offered a glimpse into a community so rich with compassion. The love in the air was palpable, and I wanted to make an image that captured those feelings, not just the sadness and finality of his death.

This image is a first for the Press Herald’s Photos of the Year – it is actually a screen capture from a video clip. When I first started shooting video for the newspaper’s website years ago, it became quickly apparent that it was very hard to shoot both video and still photographs at certain assignments. Typically, the quality of both suffered and I would end up with a mediocre video and an average still photo. As the caliber of DSLR cameras improved, I discovered that the video clips had improved in quality to create screen captures at a high enough resolution to make a decent still image. The ability to work in one medium, in this case, video, enabled me to stay focused on the images that help show the story. In this case, the video clip of this couple getting doused by a large wave at Camp Ellis in Saco is very compelling and this still image of them running from the wave as it breaks over the rocks along Eastern Avenue freezes a peak moment that is also compelling.

I was getting nervous. A day before Eid al-Fitr, my boss, Michele McDonald, asked me to try something different for our coverage of the annual religious celebration: Make portraits of attendees; capture the colorful, festive garments that are intrinsic to the event. I arrived to the Portland Expo as soon as the doors opened and set up a makeshift studio in a side room. I finished preparations just as people started pouring through the entrance, then faced the sudden realization that I – a shaggy-haired, underdressed and overwhelmed newcomer to the proceedings – might have difficulty drawing people into an out-of-the-way room for a photograph. This proved immediately true.

But then I saw a familiar face in the crowd, City Councilor Pious Ali, and asked him if he would help direct some people my way. After I spent a few lonely, nerve-racking minutes in an empty room, people begin trickling in.

Next, word got out to the high schoolers, and in an instant, I had a line teeming with teens that wrapped around the room and out the door, all eager for a glamour shot. Some of the teens were so enthusiastic, they went through the line twice or more. I ended up with a successful gallery of 10 images. This portrait of Kifah Sulub, however, is a standout. Her green contact lenses, orange hijab and poise set this image apart.

Anyone who has read the children's book "Ping" knows my plight.

As a Peaks Island resident, every morning is a dire race to board the ferry before the whistle blows and the lines are cast off.

On this particular morning in early May, as I approached the shoreline, I was so struck by the fog – low-hanging, sun-drenched and other-worldly – that I decided to take my chances, stop cold and gear up. I rifled through my bag, coupled two bodies with lenses, clipped them to straps, then hustled to the dock in hopes of capturing something – quickly. When I reached the bottom of the hill and wheeled around, I saw a timelessly dressed figure emerging through the fog and knew I had a chance.

I fired five frames, got the shot and boarded the boat – just a few beats before the whistle.

I remember it was a raw, cloudy, early spring day when I saw two alarms on my phone, for a Biddeford fire. Assuming it would be nothing much, I told chief photographer Greg Rec I would check it out. As I approached Biddeford from the Saco exit, I quickly realized it was definitely more than nothing. Big, black clouds filled the sky as I drove by the Pepperell Mill Campus. After an hour photographing the firefighters working and the reactions of onlookers and neighbors, I looked for another angle. A police officer and residents at their doors granted me access to an outside stairway on a back building. As I ran up the stairs to the third floor I knew this would be a telling view of the magnitude of this now 5-alarm fire that, sadly, left 34 people homeless and claimed one life.

When I spotted four young men frolicking in the snow, I grabbed my cameras, got out of the car where I was editing the day’s first assignment, and ran across Deering Oaks park to where they were playing.

Portland’s first snowfall of the season was the first snowfall ever for these college freshmen from Nepal. Associating Nepal with the Himalayas, I was surprised they had never experienced snow, but they were from coastal, temperate Kathmandu where the average annual temperature is 51 degrees Fahrenheit and it doesn’t snow.

The four students, ages 19 to 21, moved around continuously, alternating between sliding, pulling snow from trees on top of themselves, and, as in the select photograph, throwing it all over one another. As a photojournalist, this was a “perfect storm” situation for great moments. Using a wide angle lens, I was able to get right in on the action (taking a fair bit of collateral snow in the process) and exploit the intimate vantage point to create a frame that I believe makes the viewer part of the action (minus the cold, wet snow).

A student told me about the Deering High drag show when I was shooting his portrait in 2017 for a different story. I was intrigued and gave the student, Alex, my number so he could let me know when the drag show was happening in the spring. Months later Alex texted me, inquiring if I was still interested in doing a story about it. It was the second annual drag show put on by the Gender Sexuality Alliance to raise money, and Deering’s new principal, Gregg Palmer, would be performing. I was sold. The students were warm and welcoming and they all worked together beautifully under Alex’s lead to put on one heck of a show. I photographed the whole day and it was during one of the many rehearsals that I shot this photo of a student waiting backstage for her cue. Sometimes it is hard to have faith in our collective future, but at assignments like these, when I meet bright, motivated, caring young people, I feel like maybe everything will be OK.

The room was very dark where dancers were rehearsing at Bates College and I was struggling to make good images. I bumped my ISO camera setting all the way up to 5000 and set my aperture at 2.8 (wide open). Even so, I still had to shoot at a slow shutter speed of 1/160, and I was worried. But then the dancers began to incorporate an interactive screen in the dance, and their movements slowed down, allowing me to capture this moment. (During the actual performance, they use the screen to project images, but for rehearsal it was just a white screen). It worked. I like the contrast of the black background and white screen as the two embrace.

This image was made in Camp Ellis, the closest fishing village to my home in Saco. It’s been one of my go-to places to find a feature, whether it’s a sunrise to start my day or a feature of a lobsterman bringing in his catch at the end of the day. I can always find something visual at Camp Ellis. What I like about this image is the body language of the fisherman leaning out to try to make the most of his cast, under those dramatic clouds rolling in overhead.

The original plan to document local dancers getting ready for a performance of the Great Russian Nutcracker was to photograph them during a costume fitting. I had photographed a fitting for the Great Russian Nutcracker four years ago and was impressed with how ornate the costumes were. For the local dancers, who practice for months leading up to the performance, putting on the costumes that they will wear on stage is when the realization fully sinks in that they will be dancing with professionals from the Moscow Ballet. Unfortunately, because of a miscommunication, I arrived just after the costume fitting.

A big part of being a photojournalist is being able to adapt to changing situations. When we let go of the preconceived images we’d hoped to capture at an assignment, we can focus on the visual opportunities that still exist to show the story. I think this image of young dancers waiting for their cue at the State Theater captures the nervous excitement they feel just before they share the stage with the Moscow dancers.

Reporter Megan Gray and I rode an overnight bus down to Washington, D.C., to photograph a group of (mostly) women who wanted an audience with Sen. Susan Collins before her vote on the confirmation of Brett Kavanaugh to the Supreme Court. The group let us document the entire journey, even allowing us to come into the room in Collins’ office when they gave their statements to the senator’s staff.

Many of the women tearfully told stories of their own assault and harassment and pleaded with her staffer to get their sentiments about the importance of a “no” vote to Collins. It was incredibly emotional and incredibly personal.

I am grateful to these women for letting us into their lives to document a moment of history I won’t forget.

One of the many challenges of shooting high school sports is backgrounds. High school games are exciting, but that excitement can be difficult to convey if the bleachers are empty or there's a parking lot lurking in the frame. Enter fog. This shot – with decisive, peak action reminiscent of a Grecian urn – would have been utter garbage if you could see the fog-shrouded portable toilet.

When I learned that one of our reporters was working on a story about Maine parks seeking a designation from the International Dark-Sky Association as a way to boost astrotourism, I immediately volunteered to photograph it. Not because I knew the first thing about how to photograph the Milky Way, but because I had heard from other photographers that to make a successful image required a fair amount of technical expertise. I’m just nerdy enough to enjoy delving into all things technical and also, after photographing at the Press Herald for 21 years, I’m thrilled when I have to learn something new to capture an image.

For this image of the Milky Way over the coast of Acadia National Park I started with an app called The Photographer’s Ephemeris. With this app, you can pick a location anywhere in the world, select a date, and the app will show you when the sun, moon and Milky Way rise and set. As importantly, it shows the exact direction of those events. Using the app, I knew that on this night in April, the best time to photograph the Milky Way would be between 1 a.m. and 4 a.m. I also learned the best place to position myself on the Park Loop Road. I drove to Acadia that night and slept in my car until about midnight. When I woke up, I was amazed at just how clear the night sky was. I was also surprised to discover four other photographers along this stretch of coast who were also trying to capture images of the Milky Way. It made me realize that even without an IDA designation, the clear night skies over Acadia were already drawing tourists.